


Casual Affair

by VivatRex



Series: Wishful Sinful [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Drowley Smut, Episode: s09e17 Mother's Little Helper, M/M, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatRex/pseuds/VivatRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going off of Crowley's preferred metaphor, the wife is home, but the mistress doesn't feel like leaving quite yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casual Affair

**Author's Note:**

> WHY CAN'T I STOP!? Here's more Drowley smut. Happy almost season ten, everybody.

Dean’s eyes snapped open the second that he heard the bunker door open. Sam was home.

Sam was home, and that was a problem for several reasons.

One: The King of Hell was currently spooning him. As to why he was the big spoon and Dean was the little spoon, he had absolutely no idea.

Two: They were both stark-ass naked, and their clothes were scattered helter skelter around his room.

Three: The bed was a disaster, several different kinds of less than pleasant stains on both the sheets and comforter.

Four: Dean’s entire body was a wreck of scratch lines, bruises, and suck marks.

“Wake the hell up!” Dean whisper-screamed, turning in Crowley’s arms to face him, just to see that the demon was already awake. In reality, he probably hadn’t slept at all – it’s not like demons needed sleep to function anyway. He checked the clock over Crowley’s shoulder. It was just shy of seven in the morning. They hadn’t gone to bed until five. No wonder he still felt exhausted.

“What’s got your currently non-existent boxers in a bunch?” Crowley asked lazily, eyes at half-mast. The demon looked as thoroughly sexed as he had when Dean had passed out. His lips were still swollen, and Dean had left his own series of marks on the King. He was particularly proud of a purple-black bruise along Crowley’s collar bone.

“Don’t you have super-hearing, or something? Sam’s home!”

Crowley smirked. “And why would that be a problem?”

“If he comes in here and finds you-“

“What will he do, exactly?” Crowley cut him off. “Kill me? For fucking his brother?”

“Technically, I’m fucking you – but yeah.”

“You underestimate my ability to avoid my own untimely demise,” Crowley responded, nonplussed. "It's early. The Moose will assume you're tucked in bed and fast asleep." The demon twirled his fingers. Dean heard a click. The sound of his bedroom door locking. "Not to mention, there's no chance of him bursting in on us."

"Crowley-"

"I could leave," the demon conceded. He then proceeded to roll over on top of Dean. Dean wasn't even remotely turned on at the moment, but when Crowley's dick brushed up against his own, he felt a pool of a heat beginning to form in his stomach. Damn it, this was not helping! "Or..." Crowley leaned down, kissing Dean slowly, tantalizingly. He ran his fingers through Dean's hair, blunt fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He heard foot steps. Sam coming down the hallway. He broke the kiss, moving his lips an inch away from Crowley's. "No, seriously, you need to go-"

"His room is right next to yours, yes?" Crowley asked. They both waited for a moment, Crowley looking bemused, Dean looking panicked as all hell. After a few moments, he heard Sam's bedroom door open and close. Dean let out a sigh of relief. "See. No threat of him ruining our clandestine meeting of the..." The demon grinded down into him, eliciting a gasp. "...minds."

"We can't. No. Not now. Damn it, Crowley, I'm too loud when I'm with you."

Crowley put a finger to his lips. "Well then. We'll just have to be quiet, won't we?" Crowley's lips went to his jaw, working along the tight line there, trying to relax him, no doubt. He was caught between the deep-set worry that Sam would somehow find him and Crowley in the middle of this whatever-the-hell it was, and his raging desire to fuck Crowley into next week. A desire that he kept hoping he would be able to get out of his system.

So far? No luck.

Crowley's hand slid down his chest, pausing on one of his nipples, which he twisted slightly. Dean moaned lowly. Crowley pinched harder in retaliation.

"Ah, ah, love," the demon murmured. "Not a sound."

Dean pursed his lips. How could Crowley expect him not to make any noise at all? Especially with what his tongue was doing to his ear, and the fact that he was now attending to both of his nipples with his deft fingers. Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip, silencing himself as best as he could. Crowley adjusted his position so that he was straddling Dean, the demon's thighs framing his own, and he became aware of Crowley's steadily growing erection.

Crowley's mouth against his throat. Hot. Wet. He could feel the hunger in the demon. He hadn't shot up since last night. He didn't know specifically how long it took for him to start jonesing, but if the way his teeth were grazing suggestively over the expanse of his neck, nipping and biting lightly, he expected that the King was starting to feel the familiar cravings.

Crowley hadn't had any of his blood last night - bitten the ever-living Hell out of him, but never drained him of any. No, not since the first time they had sex. Although he was loathe to admit it to himself or anyone else, Crowley drinking his blood... it had been painful, almost frightening, but it had stirred something primal in him. Apparently he had a fetish that he hadn't known about.

Crowley drew away from him, moving his face close to Dean's, their noses brushing slightly. "I can smell it in you," Crowley whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "See it right underneath your skin... Dean, I don't suppose you would let me taste you again...?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley covered it with his warm hand. "Just nod or a shake. Yes or no?"

Oh, so Crowley was allowed to talk, but he wasn't? That was just totally unfair. His better judgment raged for him to decline, but he found himself nodding before he could stop himself. Crowley's eyes were blown black and large with lust, both for him and his blood. Crowley wasted no time. He leaned down, opening his mouth wide and clamping his jaws down on the soft, pale expanse of Dean's throat. He first sucked a bruise there, then bit down hard, drawing blood.

Dean bucked underneath the demon, who's hand was still on his mouth. Pain. Pleasure. Confusion. Now Crowley's tongue was lapping at his neck, drinking the blood that had pooled there. When no more blood flowed freely from the wound, Crowley repositioned himself, sucking at the bite mark until his cheeks hollowed, milking it for all it was worth. When Crowley finally withdrew, he looked completely blissed out. Blood stained his lips. Dean's blood. His breathing melted into short, heavy, but quiet gasps.

And damn it if Crowley in that moment wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

His hands were on the demons shoulders in a second, flipping him over. Dean pinned him down, hands gripping the demon's wrists and shoving them towards the headboard. He bent down, putting his lips next to Crowley's ear. He traced his tongue over the shell, then said, "Let's see if you'll be able to keep quiet... I'd hold on, if I were you."

Crowley obediently gripped the headboard, eyes widening at Dean's sudden dominance. Dean could feel the Mark pulsing on his arm, glowing orange-red. He and the Mark were both hungry. If it couldn't be fed with blood, he would have to feed it some other way. He grinned down at Crowley before sliding down his chest. He went to the demon's nipples, deciding to get revenge for earlier. He bit down on one, lathing his tongue over it. Crowley moaned softly, and Dean reached down and squeezed the demon's cock a little too hard to let him know that even those quiet sounds were not allowed.

Two could play at this game.

He paid special attention to both of the King's nipples, a particular talent of his that he'd always been proud of - in that respect, sex with a man was not far off from sex with a woman. Crowley was grinding up almost desperately into him, and the demon had removed one of his hands from the headboard to stuff a fist into his mouth to prevent noise from escaping. It was so strange to see Crowley like this, see him in a position where he wasn't completely in control. Even though Dean was the one who penetrated him, Crowley always seemed to have Dean by the short and curlies, dominating him and orchestrating his every move.

Sex with Crowley was like possession - only the demon didn't even have to be inside of him to tug on his strings.

But not this time. No, this time he was going to wreck Crowley. He'd had Dean dancing to his tune all night... it was his turn.

Dean wrapped his hand around Crowley's cock, pumping him slowly, almost too slow. He departed from the demon's nipple, ducking down to his belly-button and sneaking in his tongue, stroking in and out. He wanted Crowley thinking about something bigger in some place a little lower as he jacked him off. Crowley's legs went around Dean's waist, and the demon leaned his head back, eyes pinching shut.

Done with his belly button, he latched his teeth onto Crowley's hip and bit down as hard as he could at the fleshy area. Crowley groaned into his fist, and he put a hand on Dean's shoulder, digging in his digits so hard that blood welled underneath the demon's fingernails. A warning. He could almost hear the demon's threat in his head, _"Don't keep me waiting, Squirrel, or I may just have to let Moose know that you've got company over."_

But Dean didn't want to give Crowley what he needed, just yet. This was an interesting position they were in. Dean had acknowledged the night before that this Crowley thing wasn't something he could quit so easily, because it was turning into an addiction of its own - but Crowley was in the same boat, he realized. The demon wanted him, wanted his dick and his blood. Until one of them learned to have some fucking willpower, they were stuck with each other.

And he was going to exploit the shit out of that. Barring everything, Crowley was still his enemy... so torturing him was just what he deserved for all of the shit he'd pulled.

A bite to his thigh. Fingernails down his ribs. Kisses that neared his cock but never quite reached (because he was still straight enough that going _there_ just seemed too much). Tongue up his stomach, at his nipples again. Hand pumping Crowley's cock the whole time, thumbing the head, which was leaking pre-cum, gripping tight at the root to keep any premature accidents from happening.

Crowley's hand moved to the back of his neck, and Dean had a feeling he was going to have bruises in the shapes of the demon's fingers there soon enough.

Shoulder. Jugular. Jawline. He liked how the scratch of Crowley's stubble felt against his tongue. Ear. Nipping at the bottom. Collar bone, worsening the bruise he'd made the night before.

Crowley was practically writhing under him at this point, screaming with everything but his voice for Dean to _just get on with it_. Panting, Dean put his mouth back to Crowley's ear. "Either lube me up, or I'll take you raw. Your choice."

It had been a long time since he'd had sex like this. Dirty. Primal. Intense. How it was supposed to be. He was loving every second of it, and he knew Crowley was, too.

Dean felt his cock suddenly slick. Ah. So Crowley wasn't that much of a masochist - at least not today. Dean issued a sharp bite to Crowley jaw, causing the demon to arch dramatically off of the bed with a muffle groan. He then hooked his hands under the King's knees and spread his legs apart, tilting him so he was in the perfect position. He'd yet to go down on Crowley, always having the demon riding him, and the prospect was already pushing him to the edge of his self-control. Dean lined himself up at Crowley's entrance. Their eyes met, and Crowley finally allowed his fist to drop from his mouth. He'd left teeth indentations in his own knuckles.

Struggling for breath he didn't need, Crowley spoke, "Afraid not, love."

It must've been demon magic, because it all happened unnaturally fast. Suddenly Dean was flat on his back, both hands pinned over his head by one of Crowley's fists around his wrists. The demon was on top of him, down on his dick in a flash. The demon's hand went at his throat, pressing enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to cut off his airway. Dean, in spite of himself, let out a gasp as he was sheathed deep inside of the King.

"Let me make this... very clear," Crowley said breathily as he began to ride Dean's cock. "I stay... _on top_."

Before Dean had a chance to argue or retort, the demon's mouth was on his, tongue pushing his lips apart as the demon mercifully released his hands. Crowley's tongue in his mouth, Crowley falling up and down on his dick, Crowley's thumb pressing into his windpipe, fingers digging into his neck. The smell of him, the sweat, the sharp gasps and panting - it was overwhelming. Dean was lost to it. A part of him wanted nothing more than to come. Another part wanted this to last forever.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Crowley withdrew from Dean's mouth, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip as a way of saying goodbye. As Crowley continued to ride him, he began stroking himself off. Dean was beginning to feel like he wasn't contributing, and he wanted at least some ounce of control, so he slapped Crowley's hand away and began working the demon's cock himself.

Crowley smirked at him, licking his lips as he moved, slamming himself down harder, faster. Dean's free hand went up to Crowley's face. He brushed his thumb over the demon's brow, and his eyes were transfixed on him, unable to drop his gaze. He could feel himself nearing the edge, and he knew Crowley was, too, just by the way each stroke of his dick was sending shudders through him. Dark green became blood red, and he tilted his head back, coming down on Dean's cock once more.

The demon came hard, his expression somewhere between incomprehensible pleasure and soul-deep pain. Temporarily distracted by his orgasm, Dean was able to flip Crowley over. He'd hoped he would be able to hold out just a hint longer than the demon. He managed to thrust inside of the demon deep and hard a few times before he followed his partner over the edge. White pulsed in his vision, blinding him and blocking out all other sensations except the feeling of spilling into Crowley, and the demon tightening around him.

When they were both empty and exhausted, Dean collapsed on top of the demon. If he'd been a human, he would've practically crushed the smaller man. He hadn't even thought that he had anything left in him after last night, but apparently, he did. That was one of the most powerful orgasms he could ever remember having.

"See..." Crowley sighed out, pushing Dean off and out of him. The hunter rolled off to the side, his heart beating so fast in his chest he thought he was going to end up cracking his ribs. "We can be quiet, if necessity calls for it." Crowley leaned over the side of Dean's bed, grabbing his suit jacket and removing a monogrammed handkerchief from the breast pocket. He dabbed at his lips, which were damp with blood and spit.

"I can't believe we just did that. Sam is in the room right beside us."

"It just makes it all the more fun, doesn't it?" Crowley replied with a smirk, tossing his handkerchief off to the side. "The risk of getting caught... amps up the heat, wouldn't you say?"

Dean just shook his head. This fucking demon was going to be the death of him. Crowley rolled over, pressing himself to Dean's side. Automatically, his arm went around the demon's back. Crowley stretched over Dean's stomach, reaching for the crook of his right arm. He traced a finger along the Mark of Cain, which had ceased its glowing. "This is good for you, you know," the demon told him. "It's release. Impaling me on your cock, impaling random pedestrians with the Blade... two different kinds of hunger. Good to feed one, perhaps not the best for you to feed the other."

"I'm not some psycho, Crowley. I'm not going to let this get the best of me."

"One can hope. I'm not saying don't embrace it, merely... proceed with caution, hmm?"

Dean gave Crowley a strange look. "Are you actually concerned about my well-being?"

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes. "God, no. I'm merely worried about my own private hellhound breaking his leash. Abaddon is priority number one."

"One? I'm not your hellhound. Two? I fucking know. As soon as we find her, she's dead. End of story."

"Oh, no story ever really ends, Dean. Haven't you learned that by now?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but a knock came on his door. "Dean? I thought I heard you in here - are you up?"

Dean actually did know what if felt like to have a heart attack - getting electrocuted sucks - and he could've sworn that he nearly had a coronary at the sound of his brother's voice. He pushed Crowley off of him, whispered, "Get the fuck out!" as quietly and aggressively as humanly possible. "Get your shit, go, _hurry_!"

Crowley gave him an almost insulted look that seemed to scream, _"Are you fucking kidding me?"_

However, for once, the demon decided not to make an argument out of it. He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. In a blink, the King of Hell was gone, and so too were his clothes from around the room. Dean quickly scrambled for his boxer shorts, finding them half-tucked under the bed. He pulled them on just as Sam called his name again.

"Just a sec!" he called back, his voice sounding wrecked. He straightened the bed as best he could and adjusted himself strategically over the various stains that he and Crowley had made over the course of the past eight hours or so. "Yeah, yeah, come in. I'm up."

Sam opened the door, peaking his large head in. "Hey, I just got back from-" Sam's eyes widened when he saw his neck. "What the hell happened to your neck?"

Fuck. That's right, Crowley had bitten him. Multiple times, but with the covers pulled up to his chest, Sam could thankfully only see a few of the marks he'd received. There was no way any explanation besides sex could make sense, so he was going to have to go with that. "I, uh, had a pretty wild night last night, to be honest." He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. "Kansas girls, man. They're crazy."

"You didn't bring her here, did you?"

Her. Right. "Dude, no. Come on. Secret hideouts aren't secret if I bring in random hookups."

"They look fresh," Sam pointed out, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

"I just got back like an hour and a half ago, man. I haven't even showered yet, just passed out."

Sam looked a little disgusted, but mercifully, he dropped the subject. "Whatever... but you were right."

"About what?"

"Abaddon. We have to stop her, Dean..." Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair in a stressed gesture. "She's mining souls. Creating an army."

Dean was horrified. _"What!?"_

Sam explained everything that happened to him while he was in Milton, Abaddon's little soul operation. He was glad Crowley wasn't around to hear this, because if he was, he would've gone ballistic. This was nothing but bad news. Souls were power, and the more Abaddon had, the harder it would be to stop her.

Once Sam finished his story, he leaned against the wall, pursing his lips. "We have to find her, ASAP. Before she gets too strong for us to stop."

Dean nodded. His eyes flicked down to the Mark on his arm. "We'll take her down, Sam," he said lowly. "One way or the other."

Sam nodded in return. "Yeah," he sighed. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to go get some sleep."

"Alright."

His brother turned, going for the door, but he stopped, tilting his head in confusion. He reached for the door knob, which had something hanging off of it.

Crowley's tie.

 _Oh shit._ Sam looped his finger though the tie and lifted it. He looked at Dean. "Um. This is Crowley's tie."

"No it's not," he said quickly. "The tie I always wear with my fed suit's got a - a coffee stain on it. I figured I needed a new one, so I picked one up yesterday." For his credit, it wasn't the worst excuse in the world.

"This is literally the _exact same tie_ Crowley always wears. Gray paisley."

"Look, I hate the little bastard, but his fashion sense isn't that bad."

"The guy wears all black in the middle of summer. I don't know how fashion sensible he is."

"He's a demon, it's not like he can overheat," Dean said. "Why are we even talking about this?" he asked irritably. "Go to bed."

For a moment, he thought Sam wasn't going to let it go, but eventually, his younger brother shrugged and dropped the tie on top of Dean's dresser. It was all he could do not to let out a sigh of relief. "I'll see to you later," Sam said, exiting Dean's room and shutting the door behind him without another word.

Dean collapsed back against his bed. Great. Now he was going to have to actually wear Crowley's tie - and he was going to have to tell the demon that he was never getting it back.


End file.
